What can we glean from today’s nominations for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame? First of all, the nominating committee—an elite group that differs from the voters, of which I am one—is attached to the number 19. Last year, they also served up 19 nominations, the longest list since 1990, and this number suggests an awareness that they’re reaching the point where very few superstars are left to induct. There are plenty of worthy acts who have yet to make a ballot—if you follow this sort of thing, you can recite the names by heart (Roxy Music, T. Rex, Television, King Crimson, Warren Zevon, etc.)—and apart from maybe Pixies, there are few who could rally enough support to make it into the Hall the first year they’re nominated. That's the important thing to remember whenever you enter a debate about the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame: the nominating committee is concerned with the art, while the voters are often swayed by fame.

The class of 2018’s long list may include nine first-time nominees, but it feels a little soft. Apart from Radiohead, a cross-generational consensus choice for the Last Important Rock Band, the list feels like a collection of leftovers: artists who either should’ve been inducted already or have little chance of actually getting inside the museum. Also, there seems to be a surplus of acts that are liked but not necessarily loved: most of the world owned a copy of Brothers in Arms by the late ’80s, but are Dire Straits the kind of band who inspires devotion in 2017? This warm indifference works in the favor of nearly every artist on this ballot, because it’s full of acts who seem to be plausible inductees: musicians who will get in eventually, so 2018 may as well be their year.

With that out of the way, who will actually be inducted in Cleveland on April 14, 2018? What follows are my best guesses—not a reflection of my own voting ballot or a judgment call on who is most deserving.

Definites

Radiohead (eligible in 2017, never nominated)Eurythmics (eligible in 2006, never nominated)Moody Blues (eligible in 1989, never nominated)Nina Simone (eligible in 1983, never nominated)

Radiohead may disdain such an acknowledgment, but there’s no chance they won’t get in at the first chance. Over the last 20 years, they’ve come to be seen as the gold standard in rock: restless and innovative in both sound and business, disinterested in pursuing a conventional route to stardom (though it could be argued theirs is a carefully maintained image). The other band that seems a certainty this year is Eurythmics, not only a representative stand-in for a host of new wave groups but an industry favorite as well. Annie Lennox’s solo blockbusters help on the visibility front, and Dave Stewart still gets work as a songwriter and producer (even though he hasn’t had a hit since co-writing No Doubt’s “Underneath It All” in 2001).

Apart from those two, the other likely inductees are Moody Blues, the ornate prog-rock mainstays beloved by many who take the Rock Hall very, very seriously. Then there’s Nina Simone, whose presence on the ballot comes after a wave of worthy rediscovery in the mainstream, sparked by Liz Garbus’ 2015 documentary What Happened, Miss Simone? Traditionalists may make the argument that Nina Simone wasn't rock’n’roll, but she defied any possible classification—if that’s not rock’n’roll, what is?

On The Bubble

Bon Jovi (eligible in 2008, nominated in 2011)Dire Straits (eligible in 2003, never nominated)Rage Against the Machine (eligible in 2017, never nominated)The Cars (eligible in 2003, nominated in 2016 and 2017)J. Geils Band (eligible in 1995, nominated in 2005, 2006, 2011, 2017)Judas Priest (eligible in 1999, never nominated)LL Cool J (eligible in 2009, nominated in 2010, 2011, 2014)MC5 (eligible in 1991, nominated in 2003, 2017)The Zombies (eligible in 1989, nominated in 2014, 2017)

If there seems to be more on-the-bubble acts than shoo-ins this year, chalk it up to a deliberate decision by the nominating committee to push acts they’d like to see in the Hall, along with major names who’ve never made the ballot. If I had to guess which one of these nine has the best chance of making it in, it’d be Dire Straits. Forget whatever influence they may or may not have had on the War On Drugs—the world-dominating popularity of 1985’s Brothers in Arms (14x platinum in the UK, 9x platinum in the U.S.) has a residual effect, ensuring votes from those who frankly don’t think about their ballots all that closely.

The only other on-the-bubble act that could claim a similar argument is the Cars, the power-pop pioneers who had a strong run of radio hits in the ’70s and ’80s. The thing is, the Cars showed up on the RRHOF ballot in the last two years, suggesting there may not be a strong bloc of internal supporters for the band. The same could be said of the Zombies, the wonderfully odd British Invasion band who recorded a minor psych masterpiece in 1968’s Odessey and Oracle. They’ve made it on the ballot two times prior, but their subtle charms could make them a winner in an off year like this, especially with the Rock Hall currently running an exhibit on them.

As for those with worse chances: The J. Geils Band are cherished by some old-school rock fans, but it’s the kind of listener who prefers high-octane live boogie to casual blues grooves. Nobody did this better than J. Geils Band, but it’s a sound that now seems older than its Motown inspirations—a relic of when a hard-working band could travel from town to town on the promise of a good time. That captures a particular era, but it’s not a sound that resonates in the 21st century.

The same can’t be said of LL Cool J, whose best music still feels bracing. The nominating committee clearly wants LL in the Hall—this is his fourth time on a ballot—but he’s likely hurt by his continuing success. He not only was one of the first hip-hop artists to cross over, he’s one of the first to mount a comeback, and that was long before he became a cuddly TV star. Basically, LL wound up undercutting any myth that could be built up around his rap career, so he’s not as sexy a name as Tupac.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is Judas Priest, hailed as one of the greatest metal bands. Too bad for them, metal is a genre the RRHOF voters hate more than prog rock. Metallica and Black Sabbath are the only metal acts inducted to date, and it’s hard to see Judas Priest—who named themselves after a Bob Dylan song but never had a crossover single—breaking through, especially upon first nomination.

After two previous nominations, maybe MC5’s politically charged rock could function as a protest vote for 2018, but let’s be honest: the Detroit proto-punks are adored by those in the know but simply not known by the world at large (has Jennifer Aniston and Justin Timberlake sporting their T-shirts truly achieved nothing?!). Funnily enough, one member of MC5’s cult is Tom Morello, also part of the RRHOF nominating committee and, of course, Rage Against the Machine. This gives RATM a foot in the door to Cleveland, but the band isn’t exactly beloved by the middle-of-the-road masses. Their socially conscious rap-rock helps the Rock Hall acknowledge that divisive strain of alt-rock, but they never had a hit single—and having one song that everybody knows is almost a prerequisite for induction.

That leaves Bon Jovi, who have more than their share of big hits. They also made more than their fair share of industry enemies, which isn’t surprising if you’ve heard “Burning Bridges,” their vitriolic 2015 sayonara to Universal (rendered somewhat impotent when Bon Jovi re-upped with the record conglomerate in 2016). That’s the Bon Jovi conundrum: follow the charts and the band would seem to be a shoo-in for induction, but Jon Bon Jovi was never here to make friends and few critics like his music, so he’s facing an uphill battle.

For hardcore music fans, this category makes their heart hurt, because every one of these acts have strong arguments for induction. Take Kate Bush, a brilliant, adventurous singer-songwriter who laid the groundwork for generations of eccentrics. It’s why her work retains (and even grows) its power over time, but it’s also why it doesn’t appeal to the world at large.

New Orleans funk pioneers the Meters—who are as good as a band can be, as evidenced by the widespread sampling and appropriation of their sound—won’t make it in either, simply because they lack name recognition. The same can be said of Rufus, but at least everybody knows “Tell Me Something Good”—enough to warrant induction in the minds of some voters. Link Wray, remarkably, suffers from the same problem. His work gets reduced to “Rumble,” a visionary slice of rock’n’roll sleaze that’s so strong, people tend to ignore his greaseball ’60s sides and ’70s country-rock.

Depeche Mode had many more hits than just one, but the Rock Hall has shown reluctance towards any artist who entertains the very idea of synthesizers, so it’s unlikely they’ll induct a band defined by synths. They’re the definition of a band who defies the illusion of “real rock” because their songs sound as good performed on an acoustic guitar as they do on a computer, which shouldn’t win them votes among the more traditionally rockist blocs.

This leaves Sister Rosetta Tharpe, the trailblazer who upended gospel with her blues guitar runs. That description alone tells you why she should be in the Rock Hall, but sadly for many voters, she’s a name read in history books—a part of the past, not of ongoing history. She likely will get in, but with a caveat: under the Rock Hall’s umbrella of pre-rock influences. Better than not at all.